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  I snapped, “See, you’re doing it again.”

  “I’m beginning to worry about you.”

  “If you’re just beginning to worry, you’re way behind the rest of the world. Do you want to hear this or not?”

  She grinned, “Sure. You stroked a genius.”

  “Only in my dreams. Don’t be a smartass. I had a stroke of genius. I sat down at the computer last night and I typed the word ‘murder’ into the search engine.”

  Eye roll, “Yeah, that was brilliant.”

  “Do you want to hear this?”

  “Yeah, go.”

  I said, “Turns out that when you type in the word murder, you get somewhere around 88 million hits. Isn’t that sad?”

  “Yeah, real sad. Where does the genius part come in?”

  “Well, obviously, I don’t have time to read about 88 million murders, plus there’s the whole eewww factor, so I added ‘Florida’.”

  Eye roll, “I give, how many hits came up for Florida?”

  “Something like 2.2 million.”

  “That seems high. If there are 88 million murders and there are 50 states, how come Florida has 2.2 million murders? Wonder what the population in each state is like. You really shouldn’t have as many murders in, say, Montana, since there aren’t as many people there, but you would think that a place like New York where there are easily a gazillion more people than Montana would have a much higher number of murders.”

  I shook my head and said, “Slow down there my little bean counter. Remember, it really isn’t the number of actual murders; it is articles about murders and news coverage about murders and pretty much any time the computer sees the word ‘murder’, anywhere in the whole universe I think.” I wiggled my eyebrows and looked right at her, “And you were making fun of my computer skills. Listen to me, I almost sound like I know what I’m talking about. I’m getting good at this computer thing, but, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Ok, so you do a search for Florida murders and you get back 2.2 million hits. Then what?”

  I continued to explain, getting more excited with each layer of the telling. I’m Irish, that’s what we do. “Well, that’s still way too many for me to deal with, so I typed in unsolved Florida murders. Now we’re getting somewhere, down to just over a quarter of a million.”

  Her eyebrows met in the middle, “Please tell me you’re not going to try to read a quarter of a million articles in hopes that you will get enough information to solve a murder, any murder, that might not even be in that group, to earn $100,000, or some other reward, before they turn your lights off. What am I missing here?”

  “Ya didn’t let me finish. You might just be the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”

  “No Cara, you’re the most patient person on the planet, which just makes us normal people look rushed.”

  I puffed, “Fine, you want to hear this or what?”

  “Go.”

  I took a deep breath and pulled myself back to the subject at hand, “So I’m looking at the first article. It’s about a child. Oh my God I cried. I can’t be reading about murdered kids or I’m going to lose my mind. Especially murdered children whose case hasn’t been solved yet. Can you imagine what that would do to your soul? Think about how it would feel to work on a case like that, or worse, know a child that had been murdered. I thank God I can’t even imagine how hard that would be.”

  I forced myself not to cry for all the lost children and their families and said, “So I’m reading like every third line, hoping to skip the really heartbreaking stuff, and I get to the bottom of the story, and it has related stories. I click to a related story, and at the bottom, there are stories related to that one.”

  Triumphant, I said, “One of the related stories is about the cops profiling crimes on MySpace hoping someone will come forward with information that could help. Another related story is about how cops are using other computer stuff. They’re using computers. Just like us.”

  She rolled her huge blue eyes, yet again, it really seems to annoy me these days, but she couldn’t stop if her life depended on it, so why make a big deal out of it? Besides which, although few people seem to understand the concept these days, I was raised to believe that my right to not be annoyed does not supersede her right to be annoying.

  She said, “Great, so the cops already have this figured out. You have no idea what you’re doing. They are trained professionals. If computers can be used to figure this out, then they have it covered. I really think it’s time for you to look for a real job.”

  “Fine, ya know what Teagan? You’re a jerk. I don’t need your help. I can do this myself. All I really needed was your boobs, and I don’t really need them if I’m going to be doing this all on the computer. Besides, if I need boobs, I’ll just buy myself a pair.”

  “How are you going to pay for surgery if you can’t afford your light bill?”

  “I’m not going to have surgery. I’m talking about stuffing my bra you dink. If I bought permanent ones, they would get in the way when I reach down to grab my foot when I’m trying to put my foot behind my head. You gotta think about these things.”

  She spoke to me as if I were a dimwitted child, “Not if you lay down to put your foot behind your head, then your boobs would be under your arms and they wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “That isn’t the way it works with fabricated boobage. They stand proud no matter what the circumstance.”

  “I would just like to point out, that if you bought yourself a pair of boobs, you would no longer need to figure out how to get your foot behind your head, so it would be a moot point, but I stand corrected.”

  I was able to keep my tone level, miracles do happen, “As well you should.”

  “I’m going to go grab a sandwich, what do you want?”

  “Nothing. I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to go work on the computer for a while.” Out I flounced. Usually, it’s Teagan that flounces, she has a gift for it really, but even in capris and flip flops, I pulled it off, and didn’t trip or knock myself out with the door, which, I might add, is heavy and moves really fast, and has been known to be a challenge for me.

  Very impressive. My life is improving. It’s a sign.

  FOUR

  The one thing I hate most about Florida is the humidity. It’s always humid. They say you get used to it. They lie. Your hair always frizzes, or in my case, lays flat on your head. Your skin doesn’t have a dewy glow like they claim; it’s a greasy mess ten minutes after you get your makeup perfect, having used all the latest greatest tricks from a mattifier, whatever the hell that really is, to a primer to a mineral powder, nothing can keep your skin from looking shiny. Could be the reason I don’t bother with much.

  Everything is limp. Well, not every thing, but I can’t remember the last time I had a non-limp thing at hand, or should that be in hand? Why did I go there? Whenever I get stressed I am reminded of the fact that I have been a very good girl for a very long time.

  I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t living a chaste life.

  God knows I would rather be living a chased life. Preferably being chased by some tall, dark and handsome male with a very high level of skill when it comes to all things sexual and a very very understanding spirit when it comes to extended family and t-shirts instead of lacy bras, but, what can ya do?

  Mr. Right is out there somewhere, getting the tar beat out of his wee little heart by Ms. what-the-hell-was-I-thinking, she-is-such-a-bitch, right this very minute so that he can learn to appreciate a woman such as myself. That would be me, Ms. Dear-Lord-where-has-she-been-all-my-life, she-is-perfect-for-me.

  One of the things I love about Florida is most days of the year I can drive with my top down. The top of my car, not my t-shirt, not that anyone would notice, but if anyone did, and they were to point and laugh, it would ruin my whole day, so I’ve never tried it.

  But really, if you stop and think about it, the door comes up high enough that the only peopl
e that would really be able to see in the car to see that I wasn’t just wearing a tube top would be truckers. Aren’t truckers often long haul drivers? Long haul drivers have been away from home for a really long time, so they’re probably a little desperate, so really, they might not mind the view.

  Or they might think that I’m a drag queen without benefit of my faux bosom, and run me off the damn road.

  See, this is how my brain works. I know it’s scary, but I think that if I can harness it, just a bit, that my splendiferous little brain will be the reason for my success. While all those other people are running around being all logical and making sense, I have the advantage of what I like to think of as choreographed random thought. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

  What it means to me is that I am able to follow a train of thought, but I’m not stuck on the tracks. I don’t completely lose the plot, but I’m able to see things just a bit to the left of center. I notice things that other people don’t usually notice, or at least would never admit in polite company that they notice.

  I would love to tell you it is a well-developed skill that I’ve worked hard on for decades, but the ugly little truth is - it’s the way I was born. I’ve tried all my life to unlearn it. Since I can’t, I choose to look at it as a gift, not a burden. I’m bound and determined to have it work for me, not against me.

  Oprah did it and she’s experienced a bit of a success. She took those things that others saw as a disability and molded them into her greatest strengths.

  It’s a theory.

  I could be wrong.

  But it’s working for me so I see no reason to adjust.

  I drove all the way home finding further justification for my way of looking at the world. By the time I parked, I’d almost convinced my self that I’m not only sane, I’m pretty blessed.

  FIVE

  Teagan appeared at my door a short time later and shoved a ham sandwich at me as she pushed her way into the apartment. I stepped back and said, “Thanks.”

  “I figured if we did a bit of computer research together, we could figure out if we should move forward, or maybe I could talk you into getting a real job.”

  I had to say it, “Mom?”

  “Yeah. She called while I was in line. She said if you don’t have a job in a week she’s going to worry. She said if you don’t have a job in two weeks she’s going to talk to Dad.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Yep. A heavy heart.”

  Frustrated, I said, “So, now I’m not only going to be responsible for my own demise, but worse, for causing Daddy to have a heavy heart? Mom hasn’t pulled out those big guns since high school.”

  “Seriously, how are you going to survive without a job? What happened? How did you get fired?”

  I took a deep breath. As we headed for the kitchen, I explained, “Last question first. I didn’t get fired. I quit. I couldn’t do that job, not for one more minute. And before I tell you how I’m going to survive, you have to swear on everything you hold dear, that you aren’t going to tell Mom. Or hint. Or draw a picture. Or in any other way disclose to your mother what is going on. She will kill me.”

  “Is there a stripper pole involved?”

  I pulled a face, “Me on a dancer’s pole? That was hurtful.”

  “Ok, I, Teagan Shannon O’Flynn, do solemnly swear, upon all that is Holy, that I will not share any of the information you are about to give me, with any other human being, upon threat of death. Yours not mine.”

  Even though I knew we were alone, I leaned in and lowered my voice, “Remember when my roommate moved in? Mom hated her. Didn’t trust her. Said that I needed to be damn sure that I got her half of the rent every month before the first. Said she would screw me over for sure.”

  “How could I forget that? We all heard about it for weeks. Then it all started up again when she decided to move out before the lease was up, just as Mom predicted she would, leaving our poor little Cara in such a terrible situation. What about it?”

  “I kind of didn’t take Mom’s advice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that Suzi was having some minor financial problems. She couldn’t pay rent. She swore to me that she had money coming. That her grandpa had died and that it was going to take a little while for the whole probate thing to work itself out, but that she would pay me back, so for the first 6 months of the lease, I paid all the rent and a few of the expenses. For the last 6 months of the lease she was gonna return the favor.”

  “But she already moved out.”

  “Yep, but she paid me back before she left, which means I have the money for six months of rent plus a bit more.”

  “But what about food and utilities?”

  “I have a new roommate moving in, the money that he gives me for rent, will pay for the food and utilities. Teagan, this might be the only time in my whole life that I’ll have the luxury of having a bit of a buffer. I can try a couple of things. Maybe start my own business. This is all such a huge blessing. Not taking advantage of it would be sinful.”

  “Dear God in Heaven above, please tell me you said she, not he. You don’t really have a male moving in with you do you? I know, we’re grown women, and the whole chaperone thing ended a long time ago, but Mom didn’t get the memo. Are you dumb enough to move a guy in here?”

  “Kind of.”

  “He is kind of male or he’s kind of moving in.”

  “Oh, he’s all male, but he’s only kind of moving in.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means that he travels for a living. He’s on the road more than he’s home. That’s why he can’t be bothered with a house or an apartment of his own. He wouldn’t be in it enough to justify the expense or to keep his stuff safe. You know, being gone all the time is just asking for some kid to burglarize your place.”

  “So, spill.”

  I lifted my right hand, as if to take an oath, fully expecting her to copy my move, “You swear you can keep your mouth shut?”

  She huffed, “Yes. I didn’t tell Mom about that trip you took with that guy. What the heck was his name?”

  “His name doesn’t matter, and you would think at our age, we wouldn’t be sneaking around behind Mom’s back.”

  “True. Knowing Mom, she already knows anyway.”

  We both let out a very uncomfortable laugh.

  I decided to chance it, and filled her in, “Ok, his name is AJ and he’s Suzi’s brother.”

  “Suzi, as in your recently departed roommate?”

  “Recently departed makes it sound like she died, not like she did the unthinkable, ran off and got married. You would think that would prove to Mom that she was wrong about her.”

  “It’s going to take some time to change Mom’s mind about her. You know damn well that for the better part of a year Suzi was referred to only as you-mean-that-girl-that-has-the-morals-of-an-alley-cat. Then you decide to get an apartment with her, and when Mom goes slightly insane, you came to Suzi’s defense by throwing me in front of the cart. You stuck up for your roommate by telling Mom that Suzi has higher standards than I do. That helped a great deal.”

  I shrugged, “It’s true.”

  “Lots of things are true, but that doesn’t mean we have to share those truths with our parents. Think about it Dingleberry. You just made me promise not to tell Mom about your financial arrangements with Suzi and this AJ person that will be sharing your home and hearth. God knows what else you’ll be sharing.”